The Face of the Enemy
	
(Schooled in Magic XXIII)
	
Christopher G. Nuttall

	

	

	

The Face of the Enemy
This is a work of fiction. All concepts, characters and events portrayed in this book are used fictitiously and any resemblance to real people or events is purely coincidental.
Copyright © 2021 Christopher G. Nuttall
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, except brief extracts for the purpose of review, without the permission of the publisher and copyright owner.
First Edition, May 2021
Cover art by Brad Fraunfelter

Contents
Prologue I
Prologue II
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six

Prologue I

Alassa felt... uneasy.
The feeling nagged at the queen’s mind as she performed her duties, holding audiences and private conferences and meditating disputes between aristocrats, magicians and commoners that - if allowed to fester - could easily get out of hand. A vague unease, a sense that something was utterly wrong... she paced her halls and chambers, reaching out with her mind to check the wards again and again as she tried to put her finger on the problem. But there was no reason to be uneasy, as far as she could tell. The wave of unrest sweeping across the Allied Lands had yet to touch Zangaria. She thought - she hoped - it never would, not when the civil war had laid the groundwork for a more meritocratic society. She’d had more than enough time to plan the future, then steer her kingdom to glories untold.
And yet, the feeling refused to fade.
Driven by a concern she couldn’t put into words, she cancelled her planned attendance at the ambassador’s ball and retreated to her chambers. Her staff would have to make her apologies to the guests, then explain that Her Majesty would reschedule as quickly as possible. The gossips would be chattering soon, if they weren’t already. Some of them would whisper a mere woman couldn’t handle a kingdom. Others would wonder if she was pregnant with her second child. And still others, the ones who had assassins on their payroll, would start planning her downfall. Alassa didn’t fear death, but she feared the chaos that would follow her assassination. Her daughter - Little Emily - was barely a year old. A child monarch would be lucky to survive long enough to rule in her own right.
She dropped her queenly mask as soon as she stepped into her chamber and sat on the bed. It was hard, sometimes, to pretend to be serene no matter what happened, to pretend she liked or cared or didn’t want to turn particularly irritating courtiers or petitioners into slugs and stomp on them. They didn’t see her as a person, not in any real sense. Some of them saw her as a force of nature, something to be endured or resisted or manipulated into working for them. Others... saw any hint of weakness as a sign the time had come to move ahead with their plans. Alassa had no doubt of it. There were men and women in her court who’d plotted her father’s death. They would plot hers too if she gave them half a chance.
The door opened. Jade stepped into the room, still wearing his finery and sword. “You cancelled the state dinner?”
“They can still have it,” Alassa said, waspishly. She trusted Jade - he was the only man she trusted completely - but he didn’t understand. How could he? “I’m just not going to attend.”
“Disaster,” Jade said, with a deadpan look on his face. He sat next to her and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “I’m sure they’ll be very upset.”
Alassa elbowed him. The ambassadors would be very upset. They’d see it as a sign the monarch didn’t care about maintaining good relations with the remainder of the Allied Lands, something she could ill afford after her intervention at Resolution Castle. She’d staked everything on her defense of her friend, an act that would be used against her if she didn’t manage to convince most of the coalition that it had been in their interests. She thought she’d succeeded, but it was hard to be sure. Too many of her fellow monarchs were expert in keeping their options open as long as possible. Alassa was all too aware they could - and perhaps would - turn on her at any given moment. The Allied Lands were in turmoil. And too many of the kings and princes blamed Emily for their woes.
She frowned, rubbing her forehead. The last report from Whitehall had made it clear nothing would be resolved in a hurry. There were just too many sticking points, too many disputes that had been allowed to fester while the Allied Lands stood together against the necromancers. Alassa knew she was lucky to have escaped many of the problems - she had no claims to foreign lands, nor did most of her surviving nobility - but she hadn’t escaped them all. Her ambassadors had stated it would be weeks, if not months, before the issues came close to being resolved. Alassa wasn’t surprised. The monarchs would have to work in unison to solve most of their problems, and that was the one thing they couldn’t do.
“Something is wrong,” she said. Saying it out loud felt silly. “I can feel it.”
Jade frowned. “Pay attention to your instincts,” he said. “They’re not trying to mislead you.”
Alassa snorted. She knew her instincts were good. She just wished they’d tell her why they insisted something was about to go wrong. She couldn’t point to anything and say that was why she was uneasy. It was never easy to explain, not to a man. They didn’t believe in women’s intuition, not least because it was subconscious. They found it all too easy to mock and belittle. And yet …
She stood and started to pace the chamber. The sense just wouldn’t go away. She muttered a spell, peering through the wards into the nursery. Little Emily was taking a nap. She looked perfectly healthy... Alassa knew, all too well, that appearances could be deceptive.  Little Emily had the best medical care and support in the world, yet she could still die... Alassa gritted her teeth, banishing the thought as she banished the spell. Her daughter would live to adulthood, then take the crown when Alassa died. She would.
Jade smiled. “Do you want to go to bed?”
Alassa laughed. “Do you ever think of anything else?”
Her husband affected a gormless expression. “There’s something else?”
“Hah.” Alassa didn’t feel any real humor. “I feel...”
She shook her head. She hadn’t felt so perturbed since the moment she’d discovered her father had sired a bastard son. A son! She wasn’t proud of how she’d reacted, how close she’d come to murdering the child’s mother, but...her stomach churned as she remembered the day she’d become expendable. Her father had always wanted a son. He could easily have finagled the politics, once she was out of the way. And...
Alassa told herself, sharply, that those days were over. Her father was dead. His loyalists were scattered or broken. She was the unquestioned ruler of Zangaria and yet... she cursed under her breath. The reports from Alluvia were grim. A city had risen, a king had been killed by his own people... Alassa grimaced. There were threats and uprisings right across the Allied Lands. Events were spiraling out of control. Zangaria might remain immune, for the moment, but she feared it wouldn’t last. Her Levellers might want to level society still further.
The air shifted. She turned, just in time to see three black-clad figures materialize within her chambers. For a moment, Alassa thought it was an illusion. The castle was heavily warded, a network of protections that should have ensured no one, not even Alassa herself, could teleport into the castle. Her chambers were covered in layer after layer of wards that made them the single most heavily protected place in the kingdom. And yet...
Jade leapt to his feet, drawing his sword in one smooth motion. The figures spun around to face him, the leader moving his arm to block the blade. Alassa expected the blade to cut the man’s arm off, but instead it shattered. They didn’t seem to be wearing armor - their clothes were black shadow, covering them from head to toe - but it didn’t matter. Jade stabbed the remnants of the blade into the leader’s chest, only to see the hilt break in his hand. The intruder lashed out at him, cracking a palm into Jade’s arm. Alassa heard the bone snap.
She snapped out of her shock and hurled a death curse at the nearest intruder. He shrugged it off. Alassa blinked, then hurled three more spells in quick succession. Charmed armor could be overwhelmed, if one hit it with multiple spells. The intruders were unfazed, their masked faces turning to look at her. She couldn’t see their eyes, but she could tell. The leader picked Jade up and hurled him across the room, then reached for her. Alassa gritted her teeth, trying to think. She had a dagger in her sleeve, but she was sure it would be useless. Jade was strong enough to cut a man in two, yet his blade had shattered when it hit the intruder. 
Alassa cast a locomotion spell, aimed at the bed. It ripped itself away from the wall and crashed into the intruders, scattering them like ninepins. Alassa didn’t hear a sound as they were bowled over, no grunts or cries of pain or anything. A chill ran through her as she darted to Jade, helped him up and directed a second spell at the floor underneath the intruders. It should have turned the stone to a swamp, trapping them long enough for Alassa to retreat and summon reinforcements. 
Instead, the floor shattered. The intruders plummeted to the floor below.
“This way!” Jade snapped out a spell, despite his pain. The wall disintegrated, allowing them into the next chamber. “Hurry!”
Alassa reached out with her mind as they darted into the nursery. A startled governess dropped into an awkward curtsey. The wards had gone down, completely... she hadn’t sensed anything. There hadn’t even been a hint the wards had come under attack, let alone that they’d been taken down in the last few minutes. She felt a flash of panic. What the hell were they fighting? Little Emily woke and started to cry. Alassa grabbed her daughter as she heard someone running towards the door. Her guards? More intruders? Or... right now, she didn’t know. She had no shortage of enemies, but...
Jade cursed under his breath. “They’re on the lower levels.”
“Shit.” Alassa gritted her teeth as her daughter wailed. The intruders were clearly sweeping the entire castle. It was just a matter of time before they reached the royal chambers and broke through the door. “We need to get out of here.”
She carried her daughter to a giant painting of King Alexis the Great, who had probably never looked so dashing and heroic in his life, and tore it away from the walls. The secret passageway beyond led to her father’s hidden rooms, chambers he’d used to practice forbidden magics and - eventually - become a necromancer. Alassa thought she could smell him in the air as she, Jade and the Governess hurried down the hidden passage, descending dark and dusty stairs to the catacombs below the city. There weren’t many people who knew they even existed. The intruders certainly hadn’t used them to get into the castle. They’d hacked the wards and teleported into the castle instead.
The governess started to gibber. “Be quiet,” Alassa ordered. She wished for Mouse or someone else, someone who had a good head on their shoulders. “Be quiet or go back inside.”
She felt, more than saw, Jade’s reproving look. She couldn’t bring herself to care. Her kingdom was under attack, by... by whom? She couldn’t believe another kingdom could have mounted such an attack, nor the Levellers... the magicians? It was possible. She knew there were magical factions that believed they had a right to rule...
The ground trembled under her feet as they reached the bottom of the stairs and hurried into the catacombs. Alassa closed the door behind them, then passed Little Emily to the governess and inspected Jade’s arm. It had been snapped in several places. Anyone lesser than a combat sorcerer would be screaming the place down. She muttered a healing spell, then turned and led the way further into the darkness. Where could they go? The castle was no longer safe, which meant... what? If it was a coup, it was a decidedly odd one. 
Jade caught her arm. “We’ll go to the Tower.”
Alassa glanced at him, then nodded. It was good thinking. The Tower of Alexis was the second-most secure building in the city. She had troops and magicians quartered there. If the attackers, whoever they were, had concentrated on the castle, she could rally her men and launch a counterattack. If not... she’d know they’d taken the Tower before she showed herself. She gritted her teeth, feeling fear slowly being replaced by anger. She hadn’t fought her own father for the kingdom, only to lose it to invaders... invaders who’d attacked her in her own bedroom. She’d make them pay for invading her home.
She clamped down hard on her anger as the passageway slanted upwards. The air grew cold and damp. They were too close to the river for her peace of mind. She thought she heard people and rats scurrying in the darkness, but she ignored them. Most people stayed out of the catacombs, for fear of floods and supernatural vermin lurking in the shadows. Those who didn’t were no threat to her. The air only grew lighter as she clambered into a basement, then up the stairs into a disused fishing dock. Her father had made sure it remained disused. It wouldn’t do to have commoners stumble on the secret exit.
“The Tower looks intact,” Jade said. “Let me go first.”
Alassa nodded, hiding her fear as he hurried down the riverside. Instead, she turned to look past the governess, up at the castle. She should have been able to sense the wards, even a mile away. Instead, there was nothing. They’d been taken down so quickly and cleanly she hadn’t even noticed there was anything wrong, unless... perhaps that had been the source of her unease. She’d been connected to the wards. Perhaps...
Jade returned. “The Tower is still loyal,” he said. “They don’t know what’s going on.”
“Neither do we,” Alassa agreed. “But we’re going to find out.”
She clenched her fists. “And then we’re going to make the bastards pay.”

Prologue II

The teleport spell was badly prepared. Master Lucknow had thrown it together as fast as possible, the moment he’d become aware of the enchantment enslaving his mind. It had held him so thoroughly he hadn’t even realized he’d been enchanted, not until the spell had started to crack of its own accord. It had been all he’d been able to do to cast the teleport spell, focused on Resolution Castle. There had been no time to snatch his treacherous apprentice or any of his comrades before it was too late. It had been all he could do to save himself.
He landed badly, the floor slamming into his face hard enough to make him cry out in pain and frustration. His nose broke, blood staining the ground. He’d been a trained combat sorcerer longer than his apprentice had been alive and yet he’d... he gritted his teeth as he forced himself to stand. The Whitehall Conference had been a trap and he’d walked right into it. Emily and her master had trapped them within an enchantment so powerful, and yet so subtle, that it had been sheer luck he’d managed to escape. He looked around, hoping his comrades would materialize beside him. It was hard to believe he’d been the only one to escape. There’d been dozens of trained sorcerers in the wretched school.
His fury rose as he walked into the castle itself, passing through a layer of wards that should have kept out anyone and everyone without prior permission. Lucknow wasn’t so sure. Emily had found at least one way to get into a heavily-warded building, perhaps by using a nexus point to break down the wards. She was... Lucknow ground his teeth in frustration. He should have put a knife in the girl, no matter the certainty of her wretched father and her friends coming to avenge her death. Lucknow knew he’d failed. He’d feared the worst, when he’d seen the batteries, but... he hadn’t even dreamed how bad it could become. If she could enchant an entire school of magicians, what couldn’t she do?
He gritted his teeth as he walked into the war room and beheld a scene of semi-organized chaos.  A handful of communications and mapping sorcerers were updating the map of the Allied Lands, covering it with red markers. Lucknow studied the map for a long, cold moment, realizing the attacks had taken place everywhere. Almost everywhere. There were no reports of attacks on Heart’s Eye... not, he supposed, that it was a surprise. Emily owned Heart’s Eye. His eyes trailed over the map, noting locations that had been hit by... by whom? He ground his teeth. Emily was an aristocrat as well as a magician, one who’d been on the winning side of a civil war. No one would say anything if she raised a private army of her own, not until it was far too late. 
I should have killed her while I had the chance, Lucknow thought. It’s too late now.
“Master Lucknow.” Master Ham looked relieved. “What happened?”
“Whitehall was attacked and enchanted,” Lucknow said. It shamed him to admit that he’d been enchanted, as easily as a commoner mundane with no resistance to magic at all, but there was no point in denying it. He forced himself to tell the entire story. “Emily and Void have declared war on the entire world.”
“Gods,” Master Ham said, when he’d finished. “What do we do?”
“We stop them.” Lucknow stared at the map. It was covered in red pinpricks, and it looked as if utter disaster had struck, but it wasn’t hopeless. He knew - he doubted Emily and Void did - that there was a great deal of land between the pinpricks. The rebels might hold the cities, the centers of formal power, but there was plenty they didn’t control. “We need to move and move fast.”
He started snapping orders, taking control effortlessly. He was the senior survivor, as far as he knew. It was his duty to organize resistance. Resolution Castle hadn’t come under attack. Not yet. Emily and Void had probably overlooked it. He could make use of their blind spot long enough to plan a counterattack. The situation looked bad, but there were still cards to play. There were monarchs and aristocrats he could summon, magicians he could talk or cajole or threaten into joining him, troops he could deploy... even Emily’s supporters might be unnerved by the chaos she’d unleashed. He could try to convince them to join him. Even if they refused, it might put some doubts in their heads.
“And contact all the bounty hunters,” he finished. He doubted they’d have any luck, not against two of the most powerful and capable sorcerers in the world, but it might buy him some time. “We’re going to put a price on their heads.”
“Yes, sir.”

Chapter One

Lady Barb was dead.
Emily stared into the fireplace, one hand stroking the snake in her palm, as she tried to come to terms with everything that had happened. Lady Barb was dead. Void had betrayed her. The Allied Lands were in chaos...
... And Lady Barb was dead.
She wanted to scream. Lady Barb had been the closest thing she’d ever had to a real mother, to someone who cared for her and helped her and didn’t hesitate to point out when she was doing something dumb. God knew her real mother had crawled into a bottle and refused to come out, even when Emily had needed her. Lady Barb had been the person Emily had needed, long before Emily had ever realized how much she needed Lady Barb. And now, she was dead.
Guilt and shame warred in her mind. She’d known Void was up to something, that he’d had an agenda of his own, but she’d never realized just how thoroughly he’d manipulated her. Or just how far his plans extended. Lady Barb had tried to warn her, but... Emily’s heart clenched in pain. Void had saved her life, all those many years ago, and introduced her to the magic she loved. Her mind spun in circles. Perhaps she could have stopped him, if she’d realized what he was doing before it was too late. Perhaps she could have talked him out of trying to impose his will on the world. Perhaps...
She ground her teeth. Void had a point. She knew he had a point. She’d seen enough selfishness, short-sightedness and sheer bloody-mindedness, right across the Allied Lands, to understand his motives. She’d watched, helplessly, as kings prepared to crush rebels and magicians plotted to impose their supremacy. Someone had to do something, but Void’s cure was worse than the disease. He’d crush the selfish aristocrats and curb the magical supremacists and establish a new order, a new order that would rapidly and inevitably decay into tyranny. And he’d expected her to rule when he was gone... she shook her head. There was no way anyone could keep such a system intact, even her. She’d studied enough history to know there was no way it could be done.
Aurelius curled against her palm. Emily felt a twinge of envy. The Death Viper didn’t have any real awareness of his own in a human sense, just a series of impulses that directed him to build a nest, find a mate, sire children and repeat, time and time again, until he died. Emily almost envied the snake for his simplicity, even though she knew it was silly. She wouldn’t have liked losing her awareness, if she’d had the mental capacity to realize what she’d lost. And yet, she wouldn’t have to endure the sting of betrayal - and the grim awareness she’d played a role in unleashing disaster - if she didn’t have the intelligence to understand it.
She felt tears well up in her eyes and wiped them away, angrily. They’d spent the last week riding through the countryside, doing their best to stay out of sight. The kingdom of Alluvia was in the middle of a civil war and strangers were not welcome, particularly strangers from Dragon’s Den and Whitehall. Emily herself had to stay out of sight, simply because the authorities - the White Council or Void himself - had put a bounty on her head. And if she were caught... she shuddered. It was possible the locals would turn a blind eye, but also possible they’d hand her over in hopes of currying favor with whoever won the war. 
Her lips quirked, sourly. Which war? Crown Prince Dater - King Dater - and his armies were battling rebels, while Void steadily put his pieces in place to take the remainder of the Allied Lands. There was no way to know what was happening beyond the horizon, although there was no shortage of rumors. She’d heard everything from a watchful peace to outright civil war and necromantic invasions. She grimaced, cursing her mistakes yet again. She hadn’t had time to recover her chat parchments, either the ones she’d kept with her in Freedom City or the ones she’d stored in Dragon’s Den. There was no way to get in touch with her friends. She couldn’t even teleport.
She looked up. The night sky was bright with stars, twinkling above her, but she could sense magic pulsing through the air. Anyone who tried to teleport would wind up in a dungeon, if Sergeant Miles was correct, or dead. Emily had spent several days trying to crack the spells, but there was no way to override them without leading Void right to them. And she had no doubt he wouldn’t come himself. He’d suspect a trap. He’d send a small army of sorcerers and soldiers after them instead.
I never even realized I could be kept from teleporting, she thought, sourly. Whitehall had had wards to keep intruders from teleporting into the building, but she’d never seen anything like it on a national scale. She guessed he’d taken Whitehall’s protective wards and used the nexus point to project them over the countryside. It wasn’t as if he’d care about objections from other sorcerers. And he has a rough idea of where we are.
She grimaced. She’d never really grasped just how big the Allied Lands really were until she’d found herself facing the prospect of having to walk or ride all the way to Zangaria. It would take weeks, assuming they switched horses regularly; she knew, all too well, they wouldn’t. Void would look at a map and make some assumptions about how far they could have travelled, then distribute his forces to block all the likely routes. He still had thousands of square miles to cover, but she suspected he had the manpower to do it. He’d been planning for decades. He probably had a private army of his own, ready and waiting to back up his coup. For all she knew, he had an entire kingdom on the other side of the Craggy Mountains.
Emily let out a breath, forcing herself to relax. There was nothing she could do about it, not now. She didn’t even have a plan. She’d have to come up with something, and fast, before it was too late... but what? Void was no maddened necromancer, nor was he an aristocratic fop who could be goaded into making a mistake. He was powerful, capable and knew far too much about the New Learning - thanks to her - for anyone’s peace of mind. As long as he held Whitehall in an iron grip, it might be impossible to bring him down.
Another pang of guilt ran through her. She’d left Frieda behind, along with countless other students, teachers, ambassadors and representatives. Void could do whatever he wanted to them. He wasn’t a cruel man - Emily found it hard to believe he’d hurt Frieda, just to make Emily suffer - but he could talk himself into doing whatever he wanted. He could use Frieda to get into Emily’s house or... or what? He might even enchant Frieda, then set her to the task of hunting Emily down. The possibilities were endless.
He won’t hurt them, Emily told herself. Whitehall had students from all over the Allied Lands and some of them had very powerful connections. He won’t want to turn the entire world against him.
She shook her head as she looked around the campsite, half-hidden in the forest. She was alone, save for Aurelius. Sergeant Miles, Aiden and Jan had gone to the nearest town in hopes of purchasing supplies and obtaining intelligence, if whatever rumors they heard could be justly called intelligence. Hopefully, no one would pay too much attention to three men travelling together - Aiden had kept her male guise - but it was hard to be sure. Void probably knew Sergeant Miles had left Dragon’s Den by now. He certainly knew Emily respected and trusted the sergeant. It wouldn’t be too hard for him to guess they were together. There weren’t many people Emily completely trusted.
And the sergeant would have good reason to seek revenge, Emily thought. Sergeant Miles had been Lady Barb’s lover. Void might be quietly relieved she’d taken the sergeant from Dragon’s Den. If there’s anyone who might know a backdoor into Whitehall, it’s the sergeant...
She snorted at herself. Void was powerful, easily the most powerful and capable sorcerer she’d ever encountered. Sergeant Miles was tough, too, but... Emily doubted he’d win in a straight fight, nor did she believe he would fight one. Sergeant Miles was a ruthless pragmatist. He’d sneak into the school and put a charmed blade in Void’s back, if he had the chance. If she hadn’t taken him away... she shook her head. Sergeant Miles might just wind up being killed for nothing. Void had had plenty of time to reconfigure the school’s wards to keep unwelcome intruders out. He’d have no trouble dealing with a half-mad lover bent on revenge.
Her hair prickled. She had the sudden feeling she was being watched. It wasn’t uncommon in the forest - there were places no human dared go, for fear of the Other Folk - but... she stood, reaching out with her mind. Flashes and flickers of magic - alien magic - darted though the air. They didn’t seem to be looking for her, but it was hard to be sure. Aurelius crawled up her sleeve, curling around her upper arm. The snake was disturbed, too. Emily doubted that was a good sign.
Something moved, at the corner of her eye. Emily moved, raising her hand to cast a shield... too late. Something struck her chest, between her breasts; she took a breath and tasted durian on the air. Gas? Her magic spluttered, then faded, as the potion worked its way through her system. Gas? She’d never heard of a potion being turned into gas, although she had to admit it was possible. The evidence was right in front of her. Her magic was gone. She didn’t have any idea how long it would be gone for.
A figure stepped out of the trees and pointed a flintlock at her chest. “Raise your hands. Now.”
Emily stared at him for a long moment, then obeyed. The intruder looked like a soldier or a mercenary. He held the flintlock in a manner that suggested he knew how to use it, complete with pointing the weapon at her chest rather than her head. Flintlocks were notoriously inaccurate, even in the hands of an experienced user. And she’d have a good chance to survive if she were shot in the chest. Her eyes flickered over the man’s body. Strong, his clothes cut to allow him to move freely... he knew what he was doing. Her heart sank as he studied her in return. He was no outlaw, no bandit planning her rape and the theft of everything they’d brought with them. He knew who he was following and he’d come prepared.
Gas, she thought. Void knew how to draw the magic out of a potion and manifest it elsewhere. Had he continued that research to produce durian gas? Why hadn’t he mentioned it to her? She could have protected herself, if she’d known it was a possibility. It would have been easy... her lips quirked. He didn’t mention it to me because he knew he might have to use the trick to bring me down.
She met his eyes. “Who are you?”
“You’re going to make me rich,” the man said. He stepped forward, keeping his flintlock aimed at her. His eyes swept over her body, looking for concealed weapons. “And that’s all that matters.”
“A bounty hunter,” Emily said. Her mind raced. The bastard had either gotten very lucky or... she didn’t want to think about the other possibilities. Void shouldn’t have been able to get a lock on their position. If he had, he would have sent more than a single bounty hunter. “Do you think there’s a price on my head?”
The hunter said nothing for a long moment. Emily studied him, hoping to see a kernel of doubt within his eyes. She didn’t look anything like the legendary Lady Emily. None of her portraits had ever looked like her, to the point that anyone who relied on them wasn’t going to have any luck. Some of the paintings hadn’t even got her hair color right. It was possible, just possible, she could delude the hunter into thinking he’d caught the wrong girl. Void wouldn’t be very pleased if the hunter wasted his time...
He walked closer. Emily braced herself. The moment he gave her a clear shot, she’d put a knee in his groin or a fist in his throat. She had no intention of giving him a straight fight either. He might underestimate her strength - it was rare for magicians to develop their muscles - but he’d still be stronger than she was. She had to cripple or kill him with the first blow.
The hunter stopped and produced a small crystal from his pocket. It glowed the moment he held it close to her. Emily blinked in shock. A crystal tuned to her magical signature? Or just to her personally? She’d never heard of anything like it. Perhaps Void had inserted a ward-like spell into the crystal, or...
“You’re definitely going to make me rich,” the bounty hunter said. There was a note of dark pleasure in his voice. “Turn around. Lie down on the ground.”
“Whatever he’s offering, I can double it,” Emily said. The hunter had to have been sent by Void. There wasn’t anyone else who could have charmed the crystal to point to her. No one knew her magic as well as her master. “Or there are other compensations...”
“Turn around. Lie down.” The hunter jabbed his flintlock at her. “Now.”
Professional, Emily thought, sourly. And the moment he has me bound…
She gritted her teeth as she lowered herself to the ground. The hunter wasn’t taking any chances. She wouldn’t be able to lash out at him, not before he’d bound her hands and hefted her over his shoulder. He’d probably have a horse somewhere nearby. By the time Sergeant Miles and the others returned, the bounty hunter would have her halfway to Whitehall. They wouldn’t have a hope of catching up before it was too late. And as long as the hunter was careful to force-feed her potion, she wouldn’t be able to escape.
A thought crossed her mind. There might be a way out.
She anticipated his next order and put her hands behind her back. He wouldn’t look too closely, she hoped. Void knew what to look for, but... would he have told the hunter? She didn't know. She grunted as he put his boot on her backside, pinning her to the ground. He really wasn’t taking any chances. His hands clutched her wrists, holding them together effortlessly. She heard the manacles clinking as he pulled them from his belt. He knew what he was doing...
Aurelius struck. The hunter screamed, letting go of her as the snake slid up his sleeve and headed for his neck. The rotting touch alone would have been lethal, if he hadn’t been given immediate medical aid, but Aurelius sank his fangs into the hunter’s skin and put him beyond all hope of recovery. Emily rolled over and sat up, just in time to see the hunter stagger before falling to the ground. His eyes bulged, while his hand grasped for the flintlock before he finally expired. Emily didn’t dare let herself feel guilty. The hunter would have delivered her into Void’s hands, ensuring his victory. She dreaded to think what he might have had in mind.
She waited until the corpse had stopped twitching, then roughly searched it. A pair of capsules - she scented durian on one, suggesting it was made of compressed gas - a cluster of papers, some money and a sketch map of the surrounding countryside. Someone was thinking ahead. The bounty hunter - probably more than one - had been assigned to maintain watch on a specific part of the country, with orders to intercept any strangers and take them to Dragon’s Den. She wondered, idly, what King Dater thought of rogue bounty hunters in his territory. It was just another sign law and order had collapsed.
The snake felt satisfied as she picked him up and let him curl around her neck while she examined the crystal. It was tuned to her... she guessed the range was very short or Void would have tracked her down with ease. The bounty hunter couldn’t have been sure it was her, not until he’d been very close. She cursed under her breath, wondering what he’d had in mind if it turned out he’d caught the wrong woman. Somehow, she doubted he would have apologized. It was far more likely he would have cut her throat and walked away, leaving her body for her friends and family to find. Bounty hunters were known for ruthlessness. Void was gambling by using them.
And if someone realizes this bounty hunter has gone missing, she thought, they may guess where we are.
Her heart twisted. It might not matter. If there were hundreds of bounty hunters searching for them, there was a good chance they’d be spotted again and again and the next time, she might not be so lucky. She might encounter someone smart enough to knock her out or... she shook her head. There was nothing she could do about it, unless she wanted to go back to Void herself and surrender. She was damned if she was giving up. Void had to be stopped.
But, she admitted to herself as she looked at the body, it wasn’t going to be easy. 

Chapter Two

“What happened?”
Emily looked up from the half-dug grave as the other three returned. She’d seriously considered leaving the bounty hunter’s body for the animals, but there was too great a risk of it being found before they were well clear of the region. The body alone might not prove anything, if the hunter’s comrades found it, yet she dared not rely on it. Void knew about Aurelius. It was too much to hope for him to conclude that the bounty hunter had been unlucky enough to run into a wild Death Viper. He’d guess the truth and flood the area with more hunters and troops.
Sergeant Miles scowled at the body. “What happened?”
“He was a bounty hunter,” Emily said. “Be careful with the body. Aurelius killed him.”
The sergeant nodded and settled down to read the papers. Emily eyed him, worriedly. The sergeant was a powerful and capable magician, but his mind had been damaged during the final battles of the Necromantic War and his shields had gone unstable. Lady Barb had been taking care of him... Emily looked away, her heart twisting in pain. She didn’t want to think about what she might have to do, if the sergeant fell all the way into madness or his magic became terrifyingly unstable. An insane magician could - no, would - become a deadly threat. She might have to kill him to save the lives of countless strangers. She didn’t want to do it. And yet, what else could she do?
Jan grimaced as he looked at the body. “How did he find you?”
“Sheer luck and a charm,” Emily said. She waved a hand at the crystal. “See what you make of it.”
“I’ll try.” Jan took the crystal and peered at it. “It looks like a family charm, but I’ve never seen anything quite like it.”
“The range is thankfully low,” Sergeant Miles commented. “How close did he get to you?”
“Too close.” Emily knew she’d been distracted, but the bounty hunter shouldn’t have been able to get that close without her noticing. They’d scattered a handful of passive wards around the campsite in hopes of making sure no one could sneak up on them. “He nearly had me.”
Sergeant Miles shot her a reproving look. “The papers are very clear,” he said. “There’s a price on your head, a pretty big one, but you have to be brought in alive and unhurt - completely unhurt. Whoever put out the contract was really insistent. It’s repeated several times.”
Emily nodded as she finished digging the grave, scrambled out and shoved the body into the pit. The hunter’s dead eyes seemed to stare owlishly at her as she tipped soil over his grave, burying him deep enough to hide his corpse from men and animals alike. Someone or something might dig him up, sooner or later, but it probably wouldn’t matter. They’d be long gone before the next group of hunters arrived. Probably. Emily straightened up and stared at the surrounding trees. There was enough wild magic in the region to make it hard for them to be located, but the hunters knew that as well. They’d come looking for the wanted fugitives.
This one probably didn’t want to share the reward, Emily thought. The papers had made it clear the reward was staggeringly high, easily high enough to keep the bounty hunter from injuring or molesting her. If he’d brought a friend, it would have been a great deal harder to escape.
She wiped her hands on her trousers and looked at the sergeant. “Any news from town?”
“Nothing we didn’t already know,” Sergeant Miles grunted. He tossed her a knapsack of food and supplies. “Rumors of everything, from war and death to plague and magical uprisings. No two people agreed on what happened over the last couple of weeks, let alone what’s happening now. One of them even insisted King Jorlem was never actually overthrown, that it was all a plot to extract more tribute from the peasants. There’s no way to know the truth.”
“King Jorlem is dead,” Emily said, shortly. “I saw the body.”
She grimaced as they finished packing up the campsite, then started to walk. They’d gotten rid of the cart, after nearly running into a checkpoint belonging to someone - there had been no time to discover if the troops were loyal to the royalists, the rebels or merely locals defending their homes - but Sergeant Miles had refused to sell his horse, even though a full-sized warhorse would draw attention. Buzz was larger and stronger than a field horse and there was no way to conceal his size, no matter how many tricks they used to try to hide his true nature. Emily understood, better than she cared to admit. Sergeant Miles had lost too much in the last few days. She didn’t want to force him to give up his old companion, too.
Jan stepped up beside her. He looked cranky, as if he’d been looking forward to lying down by the fire. Emily didn’t blame him. He’d been a charms apprentice, working towards his mastery, when they’d met. He wasn’t unfit, but he wasn’t used to walking everywhere either. She felt a rush of affection and smiled at him. Jan had given up everything - his master’s regard, his apprenticeship itself, perhaps even his reputation - for her. Master Lucknow wouldn’t want him back, not now. He’d see Jan as a betrayer.
“No one knows anything,” Jan said. “Why don’t they...?”
Emily shrugged. “I imagine Void doesn’t want them to know anything,” she said. She had no idea what was happening back at Whitehall, or across the Allied Lands. Void could have the entire world in an iron grip or be fighting desperately to secure his position. “And the average peasant doesn’t know or care what’s happening fifty miles away, let alone on the other side of the world.”
She rubbed her forehead as they continued to walk. She’d grown too used to teleporting everywhere. She had known just how many miles lay between Whitehall and Zangaria, but she hadn’t really believed it. Now... her legs started to ache, reminding her just how far they’d already walked. It would take weeks to reach their destination, even if no one barred their way. The maps were no longer reliable. She smiled, rather sourly, at the thought. She’d always been cautioned never to trust the maps.
The skies darkened as they kept moving, picking their way through overgrown paths that looked to have been abandoned hundreds of years ago. It wouldn’t be safe to keep walking after dark, not after... she grimaced as they walked into a clearing, flashes of wild magic darting at the corner of her eyes. The greenwood wasn’t remotely safe. The only upside, she noted grimly, was that the bounty hunters might be reluctant to follow. She was all too aware they were leaving a trail. It would be easy for an experienced man to track them.
Sergeant Miles called a halt as they reached another clearing. “We’ll camp here for the night.”
Emily nodded and joined him in drawing a protective circle, while Aiden and Jan prepared a campfire. They couldn’t take the risk of erecting tents, not when there was an entire army of hunters after them. They might need to run in a hurry. She shook her head, silently grateful she’d been made to take Martial Magic in her younger days. She didn’t like roughing it - she’d certainly never shared Jade or Cat’s enthusiasm for going camping and living off the land - but she could handle it. Jan and Aiden were having problems. Neither of them had ever been forced to live off the land.
“We should be safe, for the moment,” Sergeant Miles said. “But keep your eyes open.”
“Got it.” Emily checked the circle, just to be sure, then walked to the fire. Aiden was already boiling water for bark tea and handing out bread and cheese. “Thank you.”
Aiden looked pale and wan. Emily frowned inwardly, wondering - not for the first time - if she’d made a mistake bringing Aiden with them. It would have been easy enough to set her up in Dragon’s Den, with strict instructions to keep her head down until matters sorted themselves out. And yet, what choice had she? Void knew - through Nanette - that Aiden and Emily had become friends. Emily was certain Nanette had seen through Aiden’s guise. Nanette was a mistress of disguise herself. She wouldn’t be easy to fool.
“So.” Jan took a sip of his tea, grimacing at the taste. “What’s the plan?”
Emily stared into her mug for a long moment. She didn’t have a plan. Never, in her worst nightmares, had she considered having to fight and escape Void. He was powerful and capable and he’d forgotten more magic than she’d ever known and... she gritted her teeth, remembering all the times he’d made her talk about life on Earth. He knew more about her old world than anyone else, save for her. He knew what had worked and what hadn’t and... a cold lump of fear congealed in her heart. She knew how strong he was. Did they stand a chance against him?
“If we are to be hung,” Sergeant Miles said, “we may as well kick and scratch on our way to the gallows.”
Emily frowned. The sergeant knew her well enough to read her face, to divine what she was thinking. She wondered, morbidly, what the sergeant would do if he thought there was no plan. He wouldn’t slip into the undergrowth or make his way across the Craggy Mountains, not after Lady Barb’s death. He’d avenge her or die trying. And...
She forced herself to think. She’d allowed herself to think they’d be safe, as long as they stayed off the roads and she stayed out of sight. And a bounty hunter had caught up with her anyway. She’d been lucky. If he’d had the sense to knock her out, or use a potion to render her obedient, he could have handed her over and claimed his reward before her friends knew she’d been captured. Or if he’d used a sleeping gas... she grimaced. If someone could turn durian potion into a gas, why not a sleeping potion?
“We don’t have many options,” she said. She’d never asked for a leadership role, but... she had to take charge. Sergeant Miles was grieving and the other two had very little experience of life outside the cities and magical communities. “And there aren’t many people who’ll help us.”
She let out a breath. Kuching Kingdom - Cat’s Kingdom - was on the other side of the Craggy Mountains. There was no way they could get there without a long detour or trying to sneak through the Whitehall Pass... she shook her head. It couldn’t be done. And Heart’s Eye was even further away. And... she cursed under her breath. Void might have managed to break into the university and take control. If he had a sample of her blood, he might be able to take over before Caleb and Mistress Irene realized what had happened. Zangaria was the only place they might be able to reach in time, but Void would know it. She was entirely sure he was blocking all the roads and mountain passes.
“We have to get to Zangaria,” she said. There was no way to know what was happening in Alassa’s kingdom, but it wouldn’t be easy for Void to subvert her government. Alassa had restructured everything in the wake of the civil war. It was quite possible that any unwitting traitors had been rendered harmless, quite by accident. “And we have to do it quickly.”
Jan frowned. “Can you not hack the teleport barriers?”
Emily glanced up, then shook her head. “Too risky,” she said. “The slightest mistake and our atoms would be scattered right across the continent.”
A thought struck her. “We need a nexus point.”
Sergeant Miles barked a laugh. “Only you, Emily. Only you.”
Emily felt her cheeks heat. “Void has to be using Whitehall’s nexus point to keep us from teleporting,” she said. “There’s no way he could project such a spell without a near-infinite source of power. If we can take control of another nexus point, we might be able to counter the spell or simply overpower it. If we can...”
“We could teleport the rest of the way,” Jan said. “Right?”
“Right,” Emily agreed. “At the very least, we could force him to come to us on our terms.”
Aiden cleared her throat. “There’s a nexus point in Red Rose.”
Emily nodded. “If we can get inside, take control...”
“He’ll have secured the nexus point by now,” Sergeant Miles said. “He won’t leave Red Rose untouched.”
“Yes.” Emily grimaced. Void wouldn’t need to deduce their plan to take steps to secure Red Rose. He knew he needed to take control of the nexus points if he wanted to win. He might foil her half-baked plan without ever quite knowing what he’d done. “We need a nexus point. Are there any other possibilities?”
“The White City,” Jan said. “The nexus point under the Imperial Palace reignited, too.”
“And the city has been abandoned,” Aiden said. “We could just walk in and take it.”
“Hold your horses,” Sergeant Miles growled. “The city was abandoned because wild magic started to spill out of the castle and into the surrounding mansions. There’s no way we can walk into that and come out unchanged. Going to Void and surrendering might be the safer option.”
Emily frowned, recalling the map. “We’d have to pass through Red Rose anyway, won’t we?”
“Yes.” Sergeant Miles stroked his unshaven chin. “We’d need to take a massive detour if we wanted to avoid the kingdom.”
“So we take a look at the nexus point along the way,” Emily said. “If we can see a way into the castle, we take it. If not, we keep going until we reach the White City.”
“We might get out from under the barrier spell,” Jan added. “He can’t have projected it across the entire world, can he?”
Emily shrugged. Disrupting teleport spells was almost terrifyingly easy. Void would certainly see the advantages, particularly if he could still move his own forces around like pieces on a chessboard. The magical communities would find it hard, perhaps almost impossible, to rally resistance if they couldn’t teleport, allowing them to be picked off one by one. She thought about Markus and Melissa, working together to reunite House Ashworth and House Ashfall into one. They’d be caught by surprise if - when - Void came for their nexus point.
“We’ll have to hope for the best, but prepare for the worst,” she said. “And we’re going to have to pick up speed.”
“I’ve been giving that some thought,” Sergeant Miles said. “There’s enough refugees on the roads for us to blend in, as long as we’re careful.”
Jan raised his eyebrows. “You think we can pass for refugees?”
“As long as you keep your mouth shut,” Sergeant Miles said. “Your accent is a dead giveaway.”
He looked from face to face. “We’ll pose as refugees from Yelena. We were freeholders until our farm was destroyed. I’ll be the father of the family, on the run with my two boys and a serving girl. No need to go into great detail, not when we want to blend in with the crowd.”
“And you want me to be the serving girl,” Emily guessed. “Right?”
“You probably couldn’t pass as a man,” Sergeant Miles said. “And they wouldn’t expect you to be able to play the part.”
Emily nodded. No one would expect an aristocrat - and a sorceress - to pretend to be a serving girl. The thought of Alassa trying to do something as simple as scrubbing pots and pans, let alone cooking or washing clothes... she smiled in wry amusement. No one ever paid attention to the servants. She could put on a tattered dress and darken her face with dirt... it wouldn’t be fun, but it would be better than being caught.
“She could pretend to be my wife,” Jan objected. There was a hint of urgency in his voice. “Or...”
“We don’t want them looking too closely at her,” Sergeant Miles said, firmly. “Or at any of us, to be honest.”
“And we can’t use charms to make them look away,” Emily said. She didn’t have time to think about maintaining the ruse, not when a servant girl would draw less attention. “If they pay too much attention to me, we’re in trouble.”
She nodded. “We’ll have to hash out the story, just to make sure we all know the details, but it should work.”
“I suppose,” Jan said. “And if we get caught?”
“We fight our way out,” Sergeant Miles said. He finished his mug and put it to one side, then dampened the fire. “Get some sleep, all of you. I’ll take first watch.”
“I’ll take the second,” Aiden said. “Jan? Do you want the third?”
“Wake me when it’s my turn,” Jan said. He didn’t sound enthusiastic. “I’ll be ready.”
Emily didn’t blame him for his lack of enthusiasm. She’d stood watch often enough herself, during her schooling, to know the worst danger was nodding off. Being caught asleep on watch was a serious offense. She’d had to watch, twice, as a poor unfortunate was beaten halfway to death for falling asleep. The sergeants had pointed out, savagely, that if he’d fallen asleep in the middle of a battlefield, he could have condemned the entire company to death. And Jan had never endured that sort of training.
She stood and brushed down her trousers, then got into her bedroll. She saw Jan looking at her and felt a flicker of... something, a flicker of desire mixed with the grim awareness they were hardly alone. It would be nice to spend the night in an inn, perhaps, but... she shook her head. It would draw unwanted attention, particularly if she was posing as a servant girl. She’d be expected to bed down beside the dogs. And if they were attacked... she felt the weight of the crystal in her pocket and scowled. Void was powerful. It was quite possible he was looking for a way to scan the entire country for her.
And if he succeeds, he’ll land on us like a ton of bricks, she thought. We won’t have a hope of getting away.
She closed her eyes, but sleep was a long time in coming.

Chapter Three

“Emily?”
Emily opened her eyes. It was early morning, the sun barely visible beyond the treeline. Jan was kneeling beside her, close enough to whisper. She sat up, her body creaking in protest. The ground was too hard, despite the bedroll. She pushed her hair back from her eyes and looked around. Sergeant Miles was snoring loudly, too loudly. Aiden was so quiet Emily wondered, for a moment, if she was alive. It couldn’t be easy for her to share a campsite with three near-strangers. She’d left everything she knew back in Freedom City.
They would have killed her, Emily thought. The rebel council, or what remained of it, had declared Aiden an Enemy of the People. She would have died if I hadn’t yanked her out of the city.
She stood gingerly and stumbled over to the fire pit, feeling as if she were moving on automatic pilot. It wasn’t easy to light the fire, then start boiling water for bark tea. Jan watched, his face grim. Emily was too tired and sore to care. She put the leaves in the water, stirred them until the water turned dark and then poured the liquid into the mugs. It tasted foul, but it jerked her awake.
Jan took his mug and sipped from it gratefully. “How are you coping?”
Emily wished, suddenly, that they’d had more time to talk. “It could be worse,” she said, curtly. Void had held her spellbound. He would have kept her spellbound if Lady Barb hadn’t saved her life. She wasn’t sure what he would have done if she hadn’t been freed, but she doubted it would have been anything good. Given time, he could have broken her mental defenses and reshaped her into... into whatever he wanted. She didn’t want to think about it. “How about you?”
“My master thinks I betrayed him,” Jan said. “Technically, I did. Twice, first by ruining his attempt to capture you and then by not staying with him in Whitehall. My family will probably disown me, if they haven’t already; my name will be wiped from the apprenticeship rolls, ensuring I can never secure another master. But apart from that” - he grinned suddenly - “it could be worse.”
“It could,” Emily agreed. She liked his smile. Jan had other options, more than he realized. If, of course, they survived the next few weeks. “What happened? I mean... after my trial?”
Jan stared into his mug. “Master Lucknow wasn’t pleased. I think... I think if he hadn’t needed an assistant, he would have dismissed me there and then. He told me that if I even thought about crossing him again it would be the end. And then we went to Whitehall and” - he shook his head - “my memory is a little blurry.”
Emily nodded. “You were enchanted. And I got you out of it.”
“I still can’t believe it,” Jan said. “He did it so easily.”
“He had a nexus point under his control,” Emily reminded him. “That’s enough power to crush a full-fledged necromancer.”
She shivered. She’d always been very aware of just how intrusive wards could become, in the wrong hands. It would be easy for a wardmaster to spy on his guests, to watch them undressing or bathing or having sex or anything... she knew, all too well, how easy it would be to manipulate the wards to influence or control anyone within their grasp. Void had taken over the wards, then used them to enchant the entire school. And it had worked. It was easy to believe the staff and students were still frozen or, perhaps, going through their daily routines unaware that their school had been taken over. It would be difficult to hold such a zone of compulsion in place permanently, but Void could do it. Gordian was unlikely to stand up to him, if the Grandmaster was still alive. Void had never liked him.
Jan let out a breath. “Can I ask you a question?”
Emily glanced at him. “If you’re going to ask me to marry you...?”
“No.” Jan made a sound that was somewhere between a snicker and a nervous giggle. “It’s something different. It’s...”
He shook his head. “Do you think he might be right?”
Emily hesitated. “What do you mean?”
“You told us what he said.” Jan looked away, as if he was already regretting asking the question. “He has a point. The kings and princes and patriarchs and everyone else are a bunch of worthless bastards, fighting over scraps instead of seeing to their subjects. They could have banded together to fight the necromancers, instead of doing as little as possible and leaving the whole war to people like you and him. If there was a single authority, someone with the power to make them behave... would it be a bad thing?”
He waved a hand towards the trees. “How many more villages have to be destroyed?”
Emily said nothing for a long moment. She knew what he’d meant. They’d seen enough destroyed villages and towns over the last few days to know just how terrible a full-scale civil war could be. It didn’t matter, she supposed, who’d attacked the villages. The villagers themselves certainly didn’t care who’d slaughtered their menfolk, raped the women and children and then set fire to the cottages and hovels. All that mattered was that their community had been utterly destroyed, that there was no hope of help or justice. The idea of someone - anyone - having the power and the will to do something about such atrocities was tempting. Emily understood, all too well. People who felt abandoned by their governments would eventually turn on those governments and replace them with something new.
“It isn’t that simple,” she said, finally.
“Why not?” Jan stood and started to pace. “What if he’s right?”
Emily nodded. She’d seen war and horror... she’d seen things that still haunted her nightmares. She’d walked through the Blighted Lands and seen the devastation the necromancers had left in their wake; she’d watched the slaughter as the Zangarian Civil War - and the revolution in Alluvia - created opportunities for people to settle old scores; she’d seen atrocities committed in the name of the ruling monarch or a pretender to the throne or... 
She scowled. Jan hadn’t seen the horror, not until now. He’d never had to see peasants working themselves into an early grave as they struggled to scrape a living from barren soil, he’d never had to sell some of his own children into slavery just to keep the rest of his family alive, he’d never been seriously threatened with being raped or enslaved or murdered simply because he’d been in the wrong place at the wrong time. And now... now he’d seen the horror. And he couldn’t look away.
“He wants to make himself the ruler of everything,” she said, finally. She struggled to decide how to put it into words. “His idea, on the surface, looks practical. Right? A single authority, a single set of rules, a force capable of upholding the rules and enforcing them when they need to be enforced. It seems a good idea. Right?”
Jan nodded, warily.
“There are two major problems,” Emily said. She wished she could bring in examples from Earth. “First, anyone who actually tries to impose a single set of standards is going to find it an uphill climb. It was hard enough to devise universal standards for weights and measures and that was relatively simple. He’ll need more and more layers of bureaucracy to operate his government, which will make it harder and harder to actually get anything done. He’ll lose sight of what is important, of what can be left to the lower ranks to handle...”
She shook her head. “And it will lead to disaster.”
“How do you know it will lead to disaster?” Jan met her eyes. “The Empire managed...”
“The Empire didn’t micromanage,” Emily said. “And it still had problems because the people at the top lost sight of what was actually important.”
She sighed. “And that’s not even the biggest problem.”
Jan rubbed his forehead. “What’s even bigger than that?”
“What happens when he dies?” Emily shook her head. “Even if he does build a smoothly-functioning state, which is unlikely, what’ll happen when he dies?  He has no heir, not one who wants the job. There will be no obvious choice for successor. If he did have one... that heir wouldn’t understand power and its limits as well as Void himself. The state might come apart at the seams very quickly, leaving devastation in its wake. And that would be disastrous because, in order to exist, the state would have had to weaken or destroy local authority. There would be no one who could step into the gap and take control before it was too late.”
“You could,” Jan pointed out. “You haven’t lost sight of what’s important.”
“It would be easy to become corrupt,” Emily said. “And even if I had the best of intentions, I would still make mistakes. And, because I would be an all-powerful Goddess-Queen, it would be hard for anyone to tell me I’d made mistakes until it was too late. And it wouldn’t be me who’d suffer.”
She grinned, humorlessly. “I knew a nobleman in Zangaria. His peasants weren’t paying their taxes. His lands were so disorganized that it was hard to calculate how much each community owed, let alone collect it. The maps were vague to the point of uselessness. It was a nightmare. His lands were a patchwork of greater and lesser fields and plot, some barely large enough to bury a man. He couldn’t keep track of who farmed what or... what would you do? What would you do if you inherited those lands?”
“I’d try to sort out the mess,” Jan said. “Why didn’t he?”
“He tried.” Emily winced, inwardly. It had been a lesson in how short-sighted the nobility could be. “You see, the peasants knew everything about the land they tilled. It wasn’t really capable of supporting large fields. So the patchwork croplands were actually optimized to grow as much as possible, under the circumstances. They knew what they were doing, because they had the local understanding to know what worked and what didn’t. And when their lord tried to rationalize his lands, production plummeted like a stone. Taxes fell, too. And it honestly never crossed his mind that it was his own stupid fault!”
“Because he didn’t know what he was doing,” Jan said, slowly.
“One woman can make a baby in nine months,” Emily agreed. “And it sounds reasonable to argue that nine women can make a baby in one month. It sounds reasonable... but it simply doesn’t work. And if you went to the women and told them to make a baby in one month, they would think you were an ignorant idiot. They simply wouldn’t take you seriously and they’d ignore you as much as possible.
“That’s what’ll go wrong with Void’s plan. He’ll lose track of why things are the way they are and then he’ll try to change them, without any regard to local conditions. He may have good intentions - I believe he has good intentions - but he’ll create a nightmare. And that is why he has to be stopped.”
“Quite,” Sergeant Miles said. “Or are you starting to doubt?”
Emily tried not to jump. She’d tuned out the sergeant’s snoring. She kicked herself, mentally, for not realizing they’d wake him. The sergeant had always slept lightly, particularly when they’d been out in the open. And they’d been talking too loudly... she mentally apologized. He needed his sleep.
Jan glowered at Sergeant Miles. “I don’t doubt he has to be stopped,” he said, stiffly. “He enchanted an entire castle of ambassadors and representatives and...”
“He will tell himself that the ends justify the means,” Emily said. The betrayal still hurt. She feared it always would. “And he’ll discover, too late, that the means make the ends.”
Sergeant Miles nodded, picked up a bucket and shoved it into Jan’s hands. “There’s a stream down there,” he said, jabbing a finger into the trees. “Go get some water for us.”
Jan looked irked, but took the bucket and strode away. Emily watched him go, then looked at Sergeant Miles. The sergeant looked as if he hadn’t slept at all … she wondered, suddenly, if he’d been awake for the entire conversation. He’d been in charge of small groups of students, taking them into the woods for survival training. It was quite likely he’d mastered the art of keeping a covert eye on his students, all too aware that a minor prank could mushroom into complete disaster if left untended for too long.
“That boy doesn’t know if he’s coming or going,” Sergeant Miles said, curtly. “He needs a quick lesson or two in toughening up.”
Emily poured him a mug of tea. “How much did you hear?”
“Enough,” Sergeant Miles said. His voice was rough, a far cry from the friendly man who’d taken her as an apprentice - briefly - when they’d gone to war. His magic prickled against her shields. “Are you going soft on your daddy?”
“I know he means well,” Emily said. Void had been the closest thing she’d ever had to a real father. She wouldn’t have taken the betrayal so personally if she hadn’t loved him. “But I also know he has to be stopped.”
“Do you?” Sergeant Miles met her eyes. “Are you sure?”
“You heard me,” Emily said. She wasn’t going to repeat herself, not again. “His plan will fail and leave the world in a worse mess than ever before.”
“So you said,” Sergeant Miles commented. He sipped his hot tea without waiting for it to cool. “What do you intend to do?”
“I haven’t thought that far ahead,” Emily admitted. She had a handful of ideas, but most of them depended on getting control of a nexus point. If they failed to make it to Red Rose - or the White City - she’d have to think of something else. Void would have all the time he needed to secure the rest of the nexus points and then track her down. “It won’t be easy.”
“No.” Sergeant Miles scowled at her. “I’m going to kill him.”
Emily hesitated, unsure what to say. Sergeant Miles had been Lady Barb’s lover. He had every right to seek revenge. And yet... part of her wanted to save Void, to convince him he was doing the wrong thing... she looked into the sergeant’s brown eyes and saw no mercy there. He’d kill Void, if he had a chance. And she couldn’t blame him.
“I understand,” she said, quietly.
“I mean it,” Sergeant Miles said. He reached out and rested a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t get in my way.”
“He’ll kill you if you go directly at him,” Emily said, resisting the urge to shrug him off. “He has a nexus point.”
“And I have resources of my own,” Sergeant Miles said. He let go of her, then turned to start filling the pot for breakfast. “If it takes my life to bring him down, it’s a small price to pay.”
Emily said nothing as Jan returned, carrying the water. Sergeant Miles took it and filled the pot, then started to stir as the water heated up. The stew wouldn’t be very flavorful, but it would be filling. Aiden woke and stumbled into the treeline, looking for a place to relieve herself. Emily looked away, granting her friend what privacy she could. She’d never liked sharing a campsite with anyone, simply because of the lack of privacy.
“We’ll get moving shortly,” Sergeant Miles said. He ladled the stew into bowls and passed them out. “There were refugees moving through the village. We should be able to link up with a group and keep moving north.”
“As long as we don’t run into trouble,” Jan said. He grimaced. He wouldn’t have encountered any refugees, either, before he’d fled Whitehall with them. “Do they have anywhere to go?”
Emily shook her head, wordlessly. She doubted the royalists - or the rebels - would be doing anything to aid the refugees. They might start conscripting the men into their armies, but little else. What could they do? Food was in short supply. She had no doubt that towns and villages were already building barricades, struggling desperately to keep refugees out before it was too late. They’d eat the villages bare and then carry on, leaving their unwilling hosts starving. It was a great deal harder to be compassionate when one’s own survival was at stake.
“We’ll blend in,” she said. It wasn’t a great plan, but they had to keep heading north. It might be easier once they crossed the border. “We’ll just have to hope we can cross the border without being stopped.”
“It won’t be hard,” Sergeant Miles assured her. He sounded confident. “The border is simply too long to guard effectively. Getting into one of the cities will be the real problem.”
“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” Emily said. She drained her bowl, then passed it to the sergeant and stood. “Right now, we have to keep moving. The bounty hunters will be on the prowl.”
“Keep your head down,” Aiden advised. “It’s just a shame you can’t pass as a man.”
Emily nodded, curtly. “We’ll just have to cope,” she said. A thought struck her. “Or everyone could pass as a woman.”
“Bite your tongue,” Sergeant Miles advised. “Four women, completely alone? We’d draw far too much of the wrong sort of attention.”
“I know.” Emily smiled, remembering when Jade and Cat had dressed up as women. They hadn’t enjoyed it. Cat had made a surprisingly convincing elderly - and grouchy - peasant woman. And no one would have expected him to wear women’s clothes. “As long as the bounty hunters don’t pay close attention to us, we should be fine.” 

Chapter Four

Emily kept herself at the rear of the group as they made their way through the concealed paths, slipping down to the road. It was in surprisingly good shape, suggesting that the local nobility or the king himself had taken an interest in keeping it maintained well before the kingdom collapsed into chaos. Technically, only the king, the aristocracy and their servants were meant to use the road, but this one was crowded with refugees heading north. She looked up and down the road as they joined the throng, looking for soldiers or other signs of government involvement. There were none. The refugees were on their own.
She felt her heart sink as she saw their faces. Some looked to be farmers, driven from the lands; some looked to be merchants, perhaps even minor nobility, forced to flee by one side or the other. They looked around with haunted eyes, clutching makeshift weapons as if they feared attack at any moment. It didn’t look as though they knew what to do with them. She kept her eyes lowered as Sergeant Miles spoke briefly to the leader of one convoy, asking if his small family could join them. The leader didn’t seem to have any objection. 
Emily forced herself to walk, keeping pace with the handful of oxen and horses the refugees had managed to bring from their homes. Many of the adults were walking, their faces grim and bitter; the younger children and pregnant women were in the carts, eyeing everyone fearfully. Alluvia had been a country where everyone had known their place, once upon a time. Now... there were no longer any certainties. She saw a middle-aged woman sneering, an expression that would have annoyed her if she hadn’t been able to see the desperation underneath. The woman’s clothes were fine, but dirty and torn. Emily guessed she’d been a merchant’s wife before she’d been forced to flee for her life. She didn’t like being on the roads, and it showed.
Jan walked beside her as the hours ticked by, the convoy proceeding at a slow pace that seemed unlikely to get them anywhere. Emily wanted to hold his hand or do something, anything, to break up the monotony. It would have been better for them to stay in the forest, she thought, even though they’d been coming to the edge of the unclaimed lands. They had to cross noble estates and farmland before they’d get anywhere near the border... she made a mental note to insist they broke away from the refugees before they crossed the border itself. The stench alone would bring the border guards down on top of them...
She grimaced, inwardly, as they crossed a stone bridge into the country estate. The fields had been carefully tended, once upon a time. Now, they looked as if they’d been stripped of all grain and then trodden into the dirt by a massive army. She’d been told the northern nobility had escaped the worst of the peasant uprisings, but it was clear she’d been misinformed. A cluster of cottages and a giant mansion had been burned to the ground, weeks or months ago. The estate looked deserted. There was no sign of anyone, not even looters searching for food or buried treasures. She glanced towards the distant hills. If she was any judge, the peasants and serfs had turned to banditry in hopes of avenging themselves on their former masters. She didn’t blame them.
Jan leaned close to whisper in her ear. “Aiden is really quite something, isn’t she?”
Emily had to smile. Aiden was talking to the male refugees, collecting their stories. Her broadsheet no longer existed - it was unlikely her former editor would accept her stories, after she’d fled - but she was still a reporter. Emily hoped Aiden would learn something useful, although she doubted it. The refugees knew very little and cared less. All they wanted to do was find somewhere safe and secure to rest their heads, then set up new homes and farms. Emily doubted they’d have any luck. The best they could hope for, she feared, was becoming sharecroppers. Serfdom or enslavement was much more likely.
The convoy kept moving, circling around a mid-sized town when the locals refused to pull open the barricades and let them enter. Emily understood why. She kept walking, trying to ignore the handful of people who slipped away, either to try and sneak into the town or to fall by the roadside. She shuddered to think of people dying miles from their homes, too hungry or thirsty to keep going. The war had touched everyone. The sense of apprehension grew stronger as the skies darkened and the leader called a halt, ordering the carts and wagons into a trampled and abandoned field. The refugees were so desperate they started digging up the soil in hopes of finding a grain or two.
“You go help fetch water,” Sergeant Miles ordered. “We’ll help set up here.”
Emily nodded, took the pail and joined the other women as they hurried to the river to gather water and wash themselves. She grimaced at the sight of women drinking water straight from the river, even though they knew it was unsafe. She dreaded to think how many dead bodies - human and animal alike - might be bobbling upriver, making the water thoroughly dangerous to human life. She muttered a handful of spells to clean the water in the pail, then quietly did the same for the rest of the women. They’d be lucky to survive if the entire convoy caught dysentery. There’d be no one who might be able and willing to take care of them.
She forced herself to do as she was told, helping the older women prepare food and listening to their conversation. They were a strange mix of people, none of whom would have shared a fireside before they’d been rendered equals by their flight. She counted several merchants, a number of farmwives and a couple of women she suspected had been whores, although it was hard to be sure. They were definitely equals now, she reflected, as she fetched and carried for the cooks. There didn’t seem to be anywhere near enough food for everyone. A handful of men were trying to fish, but it didn’t seem as though they were having much luck.
“You’re a strange one.” Emily glanced up to see a younger girl staring at her. “What are you?”
“I’m a simple servant,” Emily said. The girl didn’t seem much younger than herself, but - again - it was hard to be sure. A farmwoman her age would be married by now, with at least two or three children. “What are you?”
The girl eyed her for a long moment, as if she didn’t believe her. Emily waited, bracing herself even though she wasn’t sure what she’d do if the girl saw through the lie. They were surrounded by witnesses... she cursed mentally, wondering what - if anything - she’d done wrong. Did the girl think she was a runaway aristocrat? Or a rebel? Or... or what?
“My father was a merchant,” the girl said. “And then they took him away and I had to run.”
Emily winced. “Rebels? Or royalists?”
“I don’t know,” the girl said. “Does it matter?”
Emily shrugged as the girl turned and walked away. She’d clearly spotted something off about Emily, even if she didn't know what. Magic? Emily couldn’t sense magic on her, but that was meaningless. Nanette had been right next to her and Emily hadn’t suspected anything until it was far too late. Or... maybe she was just a younger version of Aiden, intelligent and insightful without a way to use it. Emily sighed inwardly as she filled the bowls and carried them back to the others. The poor girl might have made something of herself, if she’d had a chance. Instead, it was very likely she’d wind up just another rotting corpse in the rotting field. Alluvia had been on the edge of outright famine even before the revolution and civil war.
“Some of their farms were pillaged by rebels,” Sergeant Miles said. He’d been speaking to the older men too. He took his bowl with a sigh of relief. “Others were looted by aristocratic forces. And they have nowhere to go.”
Emily nodded. “Did you help them set up camp?”
“A little,” Sergeant Miles said. “The farmers knew what to do. Convincing the merchants the farmers knew what to do took longer.”
“Yeah.” Emily smiled, sourly. “How long until we reach the border?”
“Too long,” Sergeant Miles said. “There’s a lot of ground to cover.”
Emily made a face as she sipped her soup. It tasted like flavored water. There’d been chunks of lamb or pork or something in the cauldron, when the older women had been cooking, but the flavor hadn’t come out. She grimaced in distaste. Perhaps it was rat. She’d known peasants who caught and ate the rats that plagued their fields. She told herself not to judge. She’d eaten some strange things herself when she’d been poor and hungry. God knew her mother hadn’t been interested in taking care of her.
She kept a wary eye on the rest of the refugees as they bedded down for the night. They didn’t seem willing to risk travelling in the dark, even several miles from the greenwood. Sergeant Miles tended to his horse, sneakily drawing a protective circle around the group as darkness fell completely. Emily forced herself to sleep, despite her concerns. They needed to remain unnoticed, but still...
Morning broke like a thunderclap. Emily staggered to her feet, then joined the rest of the women in preparing breakfast. The girl she’d spoken to winked at her - Emily eyed her worriedly - and then turned away. The breakfast was nothing more than the same stew they’d had last night, without even a hint of bark tea or kava. Emily wondered, as she collected food for the others, if they could salvage something from the ruined mansions or the forest. It wasn’t that hard to live off the land, if one knew what one was doing. Sergeant Harkin had taught her, when she’d been younger. She knew what to do. But most of the refugees didn’t.
They don’t know about proper sanitation either, she thought, as the wind changed. Someone had had the sense to dig latrines, but they hadn’t thought to cover them. It was just a matter of time before they caught something nasty. This convoy is a disaster waiting to happen.
She rejoined the rest of the group as the convoy started to move out. It was hard to be sure - she hadn’t paid too much attention to names and faces - but it looked noticeably smaller as it made its way down the road. She suspected some people had either slipped away, perhaps in hopes of finding a place to hide, or been left behind to die. She’d heard some kids coughing and hacking in the night, something that could be easily cured by a combination of traditional remedies and sleep. Now, the kids were likely to die before they reached their next birthdays. Her fingers itched at the thought. She had enough magic to cure some of them, but she couldn’t cure them all. And doing so would attract attention...
Jan nudged her. “How can people live like this?”
Emily remembered the coughing children and shivered. “They don’t.”
The days wore on as the convoy continued its plodding course towards the border. Emily watched and listened, keeping her mouth shut as she heard the older women assure the younger girls that everything would be fine when they crossed the border. Or something. If there was a plan, no one had shared it with the women. That was odd - farmers and merchants normally knew to listen to their wives - and it made her fear there was no plan. The refugees would keep going, picking up newcomers in one place and shedding them in others, until they reached the end of the line. What would they do, she asked herself, when they crossed the border and discovered there was no refuge for them? Even if Red Rose wanted to help - and she doubted it - there were limits to how much the kingdom could do.
Aiden spoke to everyone, the first few days, but eventually withdrew into herself as she walked next to Emily. Emily wondered what Aiden was thinking, yet she didn’t dare ask. Not openly.  Did she regret becoming a revolutionary? Did she blame herself for the human misery surrounding her? Or did she believe, deep inside, that it had all been justified? The farmers and merchants around them had all been taxed to the breaking point by the king and his aristocracy. The rebels had at least tried to set them free.
Emily kept looking up, hoping and praying they be able to escape the barrier spell. But it was still there, faint wisps of magic that would tear her to pieces if she tried to teleport. Void might not know precisely where she was, but he certainly knew she had to be somewhere within the riven kingdom. She ground her teeth in frustration with every day spent on the move. Perhaps it would have been better to steal horses and gallop to the border, in hopes of avoiding attention through speed rather than stealth. Anything could be happening on the far side of the horizon, anything at all. Void had all the time he needed to consolidate his hold on power.
She forced herself to keep going, to keep her mind on the road as they marched on and on towards the border. The rumors kept growing stranger and stranger. The king had manifested as a ghost, seated on a throne; the rebels had decided to enforce equality by executing everyone; a mob of sorcerers had turned Freedom City into a giant shithole; a horde of dragons had swept down from the Craggy Mountains and laid waste to the entire country... they grew more and more outrageous, more and more insane. Emily told herself they couldn’t be true, although she feared there might be fragments of truth within the tales. The stories had to come from somewhere... didn’t they?
“My name is Nettle,” the strange girl said, one evening. “What’s yours?”
“Millie,” Emily said. Millie was a common name. Emily was anything but. “How did you get such a name?”
“I chose it,” Nettle said. Her smile vanished. “Do you think we’ll ever get anywhere?”
Emily nodded. It was tempting to believe the convoy was going in circles, that they were just going around and around until they finally dropped dead, but Sergeant Miles had been watching the skies to make sure they stayed on track. It wasn’t difficult to navigate, he’d assured her. She’d pointed out that they were leading the convoy into danger, that there was almost no hope of Red Rose doing anything to help. She wished there was something she could do, but...
“If we don’t move,” she said, “what happens to us?”
Nettle shuddered. Emily nodded, tersely. The rumors had started with rape and murder and gone all the way to cannibalism, blood libels and dark rituals that would have shocked a necromancer. The commoners believed their masters capable of anything, from slaughtering their peasants like foxes for fun to making alliances with werewolves, vampires and other creatures of the night. The convoy kept moving because everyone knew a vast and shadowy doom was hard on their heels. Better to risk the border than stay and wait for death.
Emily eyed Nettle’s back as she turned away, then reached out gingerly with her mind. There was a slight - very slight - talent for magic, but nothing that would get her into Whitehall or Mountaintop... not even Laughter. If Nettle was Nanette, or another of Void’s agents, she was masking very well. Emily frowned, wondering if she should do something to Nettle, just to make sure Nettle couldn’t do anything to her...
She rubbed her forehead, cursing herself under her breath. The long march was getting to her, grinding down her sense of right and wrong. She had reason to be paranoid, but... she didn’t have any real reason to be suspicious of Nettle. She certainly didn’t have cause to do something unpleasant. What was she becoming?
Nothing good, she thought, sourly.
The thought kept nagging at her overnight, then as the convoy resumed the march. She forced herself to keep going, despite the guilt gnawing at her. She’d come very close to crossing the line because... she shook her head in irritation. She shouldn’t have allowed herself to become so... so what? Nettle was just another merchant’s daughter and yet... she’d noticed something off about Emily. It made no sense.
Sergeant Miles stepped up beside her. “Are you alright?”
Emily glanced at him. He’d spent most of his days talking to the convoy’s leaders, offering suggestions and practical advice. She’d had the feeling it was good for him to have a problem to solve, particularly one he could solve. The convoy might survive long enough to reach the border - perhaps even afterwards - with someone who actually knew what he was doing in charge.
“I’m just feeling ground down,” Emily said. She wanted a comfortable sleep in a comfortable bed and a proper bath. Or a shower. She’d settle for a shower. “I think...”
A rustle ran through the convoy. Emily nearly walked into the back of a cart as it stopped, right in front of her. Cursing further down the line suggested someone else hadn't been so lucky. She glanced ahead of her and felt her blood run cold. Someone had erected a barricade across the road, manned by armed men.
“I think we’re in trouble,” Sergeant Miles said, grimly. He waved for Jan and Aiden to join them. “Don’t do anything, and I mean anything, unless there’s no other choice.”
Emily nodded. “Understood.” 

Chapter Five

Aiden grimaced. “Those are revolutionary troops.”
Emily frowned. They were quite some distance from Freedom City. Void had told her that the rebels had routed the royalists, but... that had been nearly two weeks ago. She’d thought they were too far from the center of the rebellion to be caught up in the civil war... she shook her head, mentally kicking herself. The rebel government would need to link up with the other uprisings, then secure the north before Red Rose could invade and open a whole new can of worms. They didn’t have to worry about the south. Dragon’s Den wasn’t going to be invading anyone.
“They’re on your side?” Jan leaned forward. “Can’t you talk to them?”
Aiden shook her head. “They want me dead.”
“Probably,” Emily agreed. She had no idea if Jair was still in charge of the rebel forces, or if he’d been replaced by someone even more of a hardliner than he was, but it probably didn’t matter. Jair had every reason to loathe both Aiden and Emily herself, for trying to talk peace when he wanted war. “Keep your heads down. As long as they don’t know who we are, we should be fine.”
She cursed under her breath as the troops started to surround the convoy. They looked young, young and nervous and unsure of themselves. They held their weapons - muskets, swords, pickaxes - as if they didn’t quite know what to do with them. There was no standardization in weapons or uniforms, save for the little cloth caps. A shiver ran down her spine as she saw a man on horseback directing operations. He looked like a man drunk on his own power.
Sergeant Miles slipped up beside her. “This isn’t going to go well.”
Emily nodded, watching as the rebels interrogated the convoy leaders. She didn’t dare risk using a spell to overhear their words, but she was fairly sure they were demanding to know where the refugees had come from and where they were going. The rebels might be glad to be rid of the refugees, particularly the ones from the cities, but they might also consider them traitors. Who knew what they were thinking? She glanced at the trees on each side of the road, considering how they could escape. They might be able to take Buzz into the trees, but they’d have to abandon the rest of the vehicles. There was no way to get the carts into the trees, even without the rebels getting in their way.
She eyed the rebel leader warily. He was waving his hands around, his face going purple as he argued his points. His men kept their eyes on the convoy, watching for potential threats. They didn’t know what they were doing... or did they? Emily glanced towards the barricade. There were men standing there, watching from a safe distance. The refugees might be able to overwhelm the nearer troops, but the ones on the barricade would gun them down before they could be overwhelmed themselves. Perhaps. She didn’t want to test it.
The rebel leader raised his voice. “Everyone move to the side,” he ordered. “We have to search the carts.”
Emily gritted her teeth as they complied, angry mutterings echoing in the air. How experienced were the rebels? Would they notice Buzz was a warhorse? An experienced man would have no trouble looking through the disguise, but... she winced as the rebels started to unhook the oxen from the carts. If she was any judge, they were going to take the oxen and slaughter them. They might even slaughter the horses, too. The nobility would sooner die than eat a horse, but the rebels wouldn’t be so picky. Hunger - if nothing else - would drive them to slaughter and eat their own horses.
The mutters of protest grew louder as the troops searched the carts, removing anything that looked valuable and piling it up by the roadside. The rebel leader inspected his booty and made angry noises about stealing from the country, ignoring the protests as he commanded his men to remove the goods. Emily felt her heart sink. The rebels had to be hurting for good people, but still... the men in front of her were little better than bandits. It boded ill for the future, no matter who won the war. She doubted the rebel leadership would be able to do anything about the affair, if they ever heard about it. It was just a matter of time before the entire country collapsed.
She studied the leader as his eyes roamed over the refugees. He was enjoying his power, enjoying making people crawl for his favor... she knew the type. She guessed he’d been a petty villager, the kind of person who delighted in getting his neighbors in trouble before the revolution. Now, he could do as he pleased and...
“Young men, young women, you have the honor of being conscripted into our army to fight for the People,” the rebel leader thundered. “You will come with us.”
Emily cursed under her breath. The last thing she needed was to be separated from the other three. They needed to do something, but what? She could blast her way out using magic, but... who knew what that would bring down on them? Void’s spells were still hovering over them, peering over the land. If she attracted attention...
A young woman screamed as she was yanked out of the crowd. The refugee men surged forward, crashing into the rebel troopers. They had no time to raise their weapons to open fire before they were slammed to the ground. Their leader waved his sword around, screaming commands an instant before he was knocked from horseback as well. Emily looked up and swore as she saw the men on the barricades raising their weapons. There were too many people packed into too small a space. There was going to be a slaughter.
She raised her hand, muttering a spell. A barrier formed between the refugees and the rebels, just in time. Musket balls cracked off the barrier, flying in all directions. She saw eyes turning to look at her, staring. They’d thought she was just a servant... she winced, knowing it was too late to pretend she hadn’t had anything to do with it. The rebel troops were reloading, preparing to fire again. She had to admire their discipline. They knew they could batter her barrier down, given time.
Sergeant Miles launched a fireball towards the barricades. They exploded into a sheet of fire. Men scattered, a couple having the presence of mind to fire at the refugees as they ran. Emily cursed, again, as she saw a handful of other men on the far side of the barricades. They were going to have to force them to run - or kill them. The refugees were starting to panic, running for their lives. She saw the rebel commander lying still, somehow still alive, and yanked him towards her with a spell. His eyes were wide and staring. She stunned him, allowing his body to crumple to the ground. They could get some answers out of him later.
Nettle ran up to her. “Who are you?”
Emily started to answer, then stopped as she sensed magic twisting around them. The spells overhead were coming to life, zeroing in on their position. She levitated the rebel commander, shouting at Sergeant Miles and the others to follow her into the forest before it was too late. The air itself grew hot and oppressive, as if it were slowly turning to boiling vapor to keep them trapped. She forced herself to run, all too aware that Nettle was following her into the treeline. Jan and Aiden caught up with her, Sergeant Miles bringing up the rear with the horse. She glanced back as the magic grew stronger...
Bright light flared. When it faded, dark figures stood in the center of the convoy. Emily stared. They were dressed in black garb covering them from head to toe. It wasn’t armor, she thought; she couldn’t help mentally comparing it to spandex. The rebels charged, cutting through and scattering the refugees as they bore down on the newcomers. Emily forced herself to watch as the two forces collided. The newcomers tore through the rebel troopers as if they were made of paper, blood and gore flying in all directions. A horse was picked up and casually thrown into the distance. She saw a rebel stab a newcomer with a sword, only to have it shatter on impact. His throat was crushed an instant later. The remaining rebels and refugees turned and fled, only to be chased down by the newcomers. They seemed to be able to move at terrifying speed.
Emily’s gorge rose. It wasn’t the first time she’d seen blood and death, far from it, but there was something about the effortless carnage that stunned her. She was barely aware of Nettle whimpering beside her, barely aware of Sergeant Miles until he caught her arm and yanked her further into the woodland. Buzz crashed through the undergrowth, clearing a path for the rest of them. The rebel commander drifted after them, still stunned. She couldn’t help thinking he was the lucky one. His men were dead. She hoped - prayed - the remaining refugees had had a chance to scatter, before it was too late.
Void’s troops, she thought, numbly. What are they?
She put the thought out of her mind as they plunged further and further into the woods. Wild magic darted around them, hopefully shielding them from detection. She hoped... Void had probably taken the magic detection spells from Whitehall and extended them over the entire country. Every time she used her magic, she risked detection. And he had no trouble teleporting his troops to the scene. She wondered, grimly, what the dark figures would have done if they’d caught her. They’d slaughtered rebels and refugees with equal abandon.
Sergeant Miles called a halt, an hour later. Emily sagged against a tree, breathing deeply. There was no sign of pursuit, but that was meaningless. Void had a rough idea of their location. He could flood the region with troops, or bounty hunters, or animals enchanted to serve as their master’s eyes. Given time, he could even set fire to the entire forest. It would be unwise, but if he was desperate...
Jan found his voice. “Who were they?”
Sergeant Miles scowled. “What were they?”
“I don’t know,” Emily said. Orcs? The figures hadn’t been anything like as bulky as orcs, but... it wasn’t impossible. They’d certainly acted like orcs, rather than thinking beings. But if Void wanted her alive, he wouldn’t have sent creatures that couldn’t be relied upon not to snap her neck and eat her. “Enhanced men?”
“Enhancing humans is forbidden,” Jan said, grimly. “Even he wouldn’t break that law.”
Sergeant Miles laughed harshly. “He’s in the middle of trying to take the entire continent for himself,” he said. “He’s already earned a death sentence several times over. Why would he hesitate to enhance his soldiers? It isn’t as if we can execute him twice.”
He’ll never get a job with a record like that, Emily thought, with a moment of dark humor. She glanced at Nettle. The girl was wide-eyed and staring, as if she were on the verge of going into shock. And yet, she’d had the presence of mind to follow Emily and her companions into the forest. Who are you, really? What do you want?
She forced herself to stand and look down at the rebel leader. He was still stunned, but it wouldn’t last. She knelt beside him and searched his pockets, finding a number of coins, a handful of printed papers and a piece of chat parchment. Her blood ran cold. She’d seen chat parchments used to influence and control people at Laughter, back before the world had gone insane. She tested it, but the magic was gone. It probably wasn’t Void’s work. Whoever had made it hadn’t been entirely sure what he was doing.
Sergeant Miles pulled some rope out of the saddlebags and tied the rebel leader’s hands and feet. “I’ll get some answers out of him,” he said, darkly. “Pass me the water flask.”
Emily hesitated, then obeyed. Sergeant Miles splashed the water on the leader’s face. His body jerked as he woke, his dark eyes flickering from side to side as he realized he was a prisoner. He had to be completely confused, Emily realized. One moment, he’d been falling off his horse; the next, he was in a clearing surrounded by enemies. He didn’t even know his men were dead. How could he?
“We can do this the easy way or the hard way,” Sergeant Miles said. He pressed his fingers into the leader’s neck, his magic threatening to spill out of control. “If you lie to me, I will know about it and I will start breaking your fingers. When I run out of fingers, I’ll move to the more delicate parts of your anatomy. Do you understand?”
The leader nodded, frantically. Emily hoped he was too confused to think straight. It wasn’t that easy to detect a lie, not without magic. And she wasn’t sure she dared risk using magic, not when the entire region was under surveillance. Her mind raced. The spells were looking down at them, and that meant they could look back up, perhaps even hack the spells. And Jan was a charmsmith.
She nodded to Jan and stepped away from the rebel, leaving the sergeant to handle the interrogation. Jan followed her, his eyes worried. He didn’t speak until they were out of earshot. “What are we going to do with her?”
“I don’t know,” Emily said. Nettle didn’t feel dangerous, but she was definitely hiding something. She’d have to find out what it was or leave the refugee behind, which ran the risk of leaving her to one side or the other. “He teleported his troops right on top of us.”
“After you used magic,” Jan said. “The detection spells have to be tuned to you.”
Emily nodded. There were hundreds of low-power magicians in Alluvia alone. Void would have to deal with hundreds of false alarms if the spells weren’t configured to her personally. It wouldn’t be that hard. He’d spent the last eighteen months teaching her magic. He wouldn’t have any difficulty tuning the spells to locate her magical signature.
Except the detection charms didn’t respond to low-power spells, Emily thought. She’d used as little magic as possible - Sergeant Miles had urged her to keep her magic down - but she hadn’t given it up completely. She couldn’t. There have to be limits...
“I need you to figure out how to hack the spells,” Emily said, putting the thought aside for later contemplation. “If they can be configured to let him teleport his troops, we should be able to take advantage of it for ourselves.”
“Particularly as the wards are spread very thinly,” Jan agreed. He grinned, suddenly. “It isn’t easy to hack wards from the outside, but we’re technically on the inside.”
“Just be careful,” Emily warned. “He’ll expect someone to try to hack or remove the wards.”
She rubbed her forehead. It really wasn’t easy to hack a dedicated network of wards with a dedicated wardmaster. If Void - or one of his servants - was monitoring the wards, trying to hack the spells might bring more of the black troops down on them. And yet, there might be no other choice. They could keep walking as planned, and eventually cross into Red Rose, but it would take weeks even if they didn’t run into more trouble. If they could teleport...
“I’ll be careful,” Jan said. He reached out and gave her a hug. “And you be careful, too.”
Emily ran her hand through her hair. The refugees had been scattered - or killed. She felt a pang of guilt. The refugees would have been conscripted into the rebel armies if Emily hadn’t been there, but... at least they would have been alive. She remembered how many young women had been with the convoy and shuddered again. The rebels had talked a good game about the rights of women, but she feared the worst now outright civil war had broken out. The women would have been forced to become camp followers, if not outright whores.
They would still be alive, she reminded herself, savagely. And they might have a chance to escape.
She looked towards Aiden, who was watching the interrogation with an expressionless face. She’d given her life to the rebellion and now... it had rejected her and the other moderates as the hardliners took control. Emily shuddered to think what fate might be awaiting her, if she fell into rebel hands. And... her lips twitched. It was at least possible they’d take one look at her genitals and decide she couldn’t possibly be the real Aiden. Everyone knew Aiden was a man.
Sergeant Miles turned away from the prisoner. “Light a fire and heat up some water,” he said. “I think we could all do with some bark tea.”
“I’ll help with that,” Nettle said. “Where’s the mugs?”
“In the saddlebags,” Sergeant Miles said. He produced a vial from his belt and placed it against the prisoner’s lips, forcing him to drink. “Perhaps Aiden can help you with them.”
Emily nodded as they started to make a fire using mundane means. If she was right about the detection spells being tuned to her specifically, the others should be able to use their magic without interference. But... they might be designed to spot a magic flare in the middle of nowhere and sound the alarm, on the grounds no one should be there. Void and his agents knew where she’d been, an hour or so ago. She looked at the treeline. They could be under observation even now...
“Our friend had some interesting things to say,” Sergeant Miles said. “It isn’t good news.”
“Really?” Emily sat on the ground. “Why am I not surprised?”

Chapter Six

“For starters, we’ve walked into a warzone,” Sergeant Miles said. He sipped his tea thoughtfully. “From what our friend had to say, the king’s army has been retreating north towards Red Rose. The rebels have been following at a discreet distance. He and his fellows have been ordered to stop movement towards the king, while blocking roads to keep the king from conscripting peasants and refugees into his army. They’ve been taking advantage of the opportunity to enrich themselves.”
“Bastards,” Aiden snapped. “This isn’t what we fought for.”
Sergeant Miles cocked an eyebrow. “And what did you expect?”
Aiden colored. “We thought we could make things better!”
“War has a tendency to bring out the worst in us,” Sergeant Miles said. He sounded much more like his old self, his magic under perfect control. “It also empowers people who shouldn’t be empowered, the people who will seek to prolong the fighting in order to keep their power or enrich themselves. It becomes very easy to justify all sorts of horrors if you decide you have to do them to win the war.”
“He should be executed,” Aiden protested. “And...”
“And that will make things worse.” Sergeant Miles cleared his throat. “The king’s army apparently retreated from Freedom City in good order and force-marched its way north, leaving the rebels behind. The rebels took advantage of the opportunity to wipe out the remaining aristocratic enclaves in the south, then start pushing the king towards the border. I suspect, from what he said, that the king’s army is on the verge of disintegration. They’re resorting to pillaging the country as they head north. That won’t make them popular.”
Emily nodded, slowly. “King Dater was supposed to make a marriage alliance with Red Rose,” she said. “If that goes ahead...”
“He could lead an invading army in the guise of liberation,” Aiden said. “Or worse.”
“Perhaps,” Emily agreed. The marriage hadn’t been finalized when all hell had broken loose and the royalists had been defeated in open battle. Red Rose might decide to cut its losses and abandon Dater to his fate. But... if the rebels won in Alluvia, it would encourage rebels in Red Rose to rise too. King Rupert might back King Dater just to keep his own people from getting ideas. “And he has bigger problems.”
She rubbed her forehead. Void would want the nexus point in Red Rose. The civil war was about to be overwhelmed by a far greater conflict. And who knew what would happen when Void’s forces invaded the kingdom? She shuddered, remembering how easily Void had teleported his men after he’d detected her magic. It wouldn’t be hard to drop troops into the castle and take it by force. And that meant...
“If the king is moving towards the border...” She forced herself to recall the map. “Where is he? Roughly?”
“Apparently, his army is moving along the old roads,” Sergeant Miles said. “But our friend doesn’t know for sure.”
“No,” Emily agreed. She’d seen armies on the move. They were inevitably spread out over a wide area, particularly if they were living off the land. She grimaced in disgust. The rebels wouldn’t need to bother producing vast tracts of anti-royalist propaganda. The king’s troops would be all the propaganda they’d ever need. “Do you think we could catch up with them?”
Aiden blinked. “Do you think Dater will be pleased to see you?”
“But we have an in, don’t we?” Emily met her eyes, evenly. “Your father might be able to convince him to listen to us.”
“And then what?” Aiden snorted, rudely. “After everything that’s happened, what could you possibly say to him? What could you tell him that would make him listen?”
“The truth,” Emily said. “The revolution and everything that came after it - his father’s death, his stepmother’s death, his defeat and forced march - was caused by outsiders. And if we can convince him to listen, we might be able to take the war to Void himself.”
“He might listen to you,” Sergeant Miles said. “But he won’t march his army on Whitehall.”
“He won’t listen,” Aiden said, sharply. “He blames you for everything.”
“He’s just suffered a defeat,” Emily reminded her. “He might just listen.”
“And if he doesn’t?” Aiden met her eyes. “How do you intend to escape?”
Emily had to admit she had a point. She couldn’t teleport, not unless she wanted to deliver herself into Void’s hands; she couldn’t fight, not without attracting attention and bringing Void’s forces down on top of her. A thought crossed her mind for later contemplation, something about combining teleporting and her magical signature with gunpowder and booby traps. And... she had another idea. But it would require some careful planning before she could get it to work. 
“I’ll just have to think of something,” she said. “I think he’d listen.”
“Or we could just keep walking north ourselves,” Sergeant Miles pointed out. “We’re not that far from the border now.”
“The border will be heavily patrolled,” Emily reminded him. Borders were normally porous - the people living in the borderlands crossed time and time again without regard to the legalities - but she couldn’t imagine Red Rose wouldn’t be securing the border now. There were two armies heading towards the kingdom, one led by rebels intent on exporting their revolution right across the Allied Lands. “We might not be able to slip across.”
“And we might run into more rebel roadblocks,” Jan agreed.
Emily nodded. “We’ll keep moving north ourselves,” she said. “If we run into the royal army, we can try to negotiate with Dater. If we don’t... we’ll have to try to slip across the border ourselves.”
“You’re placing an awful lot of faith in an aristo who hates you,” Aiden snapped. “It isn’t safe.”
“No,” Emily agreed. “But if we can convince him to help us, he might be able to smooth our path to Red Rose.”
She stood and stared down at the prisoner. The sleeping potion wouldn’t wear off for several hours, not unless someone force-fed him the antidote. She wasn’t sure what to do with him, not now as he was helpless and harmless. She didn’t want to kill him in cold blood, but there weren’t many other options. Leaving him in the clearing, bound tightly, would be a death sentence. It might be kinder to cut his throat herself. And yet...
“We’ll leave him here, his bonds loosened,” she said. “By the time he wakes up, we’ll be a long way away.”
Aiden looked as if she wanted to object, but said nothing. Emily understood. Aiden was caught between two worlds, unsure where her loyalties truly lay. She was a rebel and yet she was all too aware the rebellion was going sour, that the hardliners would impose their will on the entire world or die trying. Emily sighed inwardly as she beckoned Nettle to follow her into the trees. So much trouble could have been avoided if the king - the former king, who’d been beheaded - had realized his kingdom needed to change. The people could no longer be kept under iron control. But he’d refused to do anything until it was far too late.
And now his only surviving son is on the run, Emily thought. Dater’s army was probably shedding men as it made its way towards the border. Some would be unable to keep up, some would desert and turn bandit, some would head back south and try to come to terms with the rebels. There might not be any hope of saving the country from chaos.
She sighed, inwardly. She understood the rebels. She sympathized with the rebels. And yet, after so many had died, it was only a matter of time before the rebellion started eating itself. They would purge the remaining aristocrats, then those who’d worked for them, then the merchants and farmers who’d made money... she shuddered. There was little hope of forging the rule of law while the rule of force was in effect. She knew enough history to be sure it would end badly, unless something was done. But what?
Void is the real problem, she reminder herself, sharply. Concentrate on him and worry about the rest later.
Nettle cleared her throat. “Who are you, My Lady?”
Emily turned to face her. “Who are you?”
The girl froze, like a deer caught in a car’s headlights. Emily would have felt sorry - sorrier - for her if she hadn’t been fooled before. Nettle was hiding something. Emily would have bet her fortune that Nettle wasn’t Nettle’s real name. She’d hidden amongst the refugees, but she’d been alone. She hadn’t had any parents or siblings or children... and she’d clearly spotted something odd about Emily herself. Normally, Emily would have enjoyed contemplating the problem. Now, she didn’t dare take the risk.
“I don’t know what you mean, My Lady,” Nettle managed. “I...”
“You’re hiding something,” Emily said. Her eyes scrutinized the younger girl’s face. She looked weak and helpless, but that was meaningless. “I need to know what it is, or you’ll have to stay behind. I’ll make sure you won’t be able to follow us.”
She felt a twinge of shame at bullying the younger girl, no matter how she tried to justify it to herself. If Nettle was Nanette in disguise... her eyes narrowed. Void wouldn’t try the same trick again, would he? But he’d assume she’d assume he wouldn’t and try it in the hopes she wouldn’t expect it again... she shook her head in annoyance. She didn’t have time to worry about it, not yet. She had to find out what Nettle was hiding and then decide what to do about it.
“If I tell you...” Nettle swallowed and started again. “If I tell you, will you keep it to yourself?”
“If it is no threat to us, I’ll keep it a secret,” Emily promised. “What is it?”
Nettle said nothing for a long moment. “They were going to kill me,” she said. “So I fled.”
Emily frowned. “Who was going to kill you? And why?”
“The rebels,” Nettle said. “I used to work in the palace.”
“I see,” Emily said, slowly. “And you were there when it was stormed?”
“Yes,” Nettle said. “I was one of Her Majesty’s maids.”
Emily studied her, thoughtfully. She wasn’t very good at reading people, and anyone who worked in a royal or aristocratic household would be very practiced at hiding their real feelings. Showing even the merest hint of resentment at being ordered around like a dog - the dogs often got shown more courtesy - could mean anything from a beating to instant dismissal. She remembered the late queen’s farce of a trial and shuddered. The queen had not been popular. Her maids might not have been spared if they fell into rebel hands. Nettle had probably been wise to run.
And she’d be very good at reading people, Emily thought. She spotted there was something odd about me.
“I see,” she said, finally. “What happened to you?”
“I got out of the city in the chaos,” Nettle said. “I... I had to give my body to a guardsman before he would let me go, then again to convince a farmer to take me in as hired help. And then the farm was destroyed by one side or another and I had to run again. I moved from convoy to convoy until I met you. I could tell you were something special. I thought...”
Emily had to smile, then sobered. Nettle’s story had the ring of truth... but, if she’d been one of the queen’s maids, she was probably also a very good liar. There were times when telling an aristocrat the truth was asking for trouble and... she shook her head. Nettle had good reason to attach herself to the group, although it might end very badly. She’d seen the refugees and rebels torn apart by Void’s men. Emily’s stomach churned. If he’d enhanced his soldiers, what else had he done?
Nettle dropped to her knees. “Lady Sorceress, I will do anything for protection.”
“Stand up,” Emily said, curtly. She didn’t blame Nettle for wanting protection - and being willing to sell herself in exchange for safety. What else could she do? And yet... Nettle might easily turn into a liability. “If you stay with us, you obey orders without hesitation. When we get to our destination, you can decide what you want to do next. If you disobey orders, you will not enjoy the consequences. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, My Lady,” Nettle said. She remained on her knees. “I understand.”
“Good.” Emily studied her for a long, cold moment. “Get up and go help the sergeant. I need to think.”
She watched Nettle go, then sighed. She seemed to have a habit of picking up strays and taking them with her. Frieda... she felt another pang of guilt at leaving Frieda behind. And yet... Nettle probably wasn’t dangerous, not in any real sense, but Emily still worried. It might be better to leave her behind, for her own safety. Void wanted her alive. She doubted that extended to the rest of the group.
And we might be attacked by one or the other sides in the civil war, she thought, sourly. And we can’t fight our way out without drawing attention from the real enemy.
She gritted her teeth in frustration. Void had cut off most of their options. She couldn’t teleport. She couldn’t fly... probably. She didn’t know if the detection spells would spot a flying witch and she didn’t want to take the chance, not until they had a better handle on how the detection spells actually worked. She glanced up as a flock of birds flew through the trees. Had they been disturbed by passing men? Or were they mentally linked to a group of magicians? She had no way to know. She felt as if she’d been blinded and...
Consider yourself lucky, she told herself, severely. If you hadn’t spent so much time in the countryside, you would be totally screwed.
She turned and walked back to the group. Sergeant Miles was untying the sleeping prisoner while Aiden and Nettle repacked the saddlebags. Jan was studying a sheet of parchment as he scribbled out endless lines of spell notation, trying to outline the spells hanging over their heads. Emily hoped he could figure out a way for her to use magic - or to turn the spells against their creator - before they ran into something they couldn’t handle. She knew she was good with a sword, but she wasn’t a blademaster. She simply didn’t have the endurance to fight for hours, not like Lady Barb or Sergeant Miles. And there was no time to learn.
“We can keep heading north,” Sergeant Miles said. “If we’re lucky, we should cross paths with an outlying picket or two before we reach the border.”
Emily nodded. “If we’re lucky,” she agreed. The cynical part of her mind pointed out they hadn’t had much luck so far. “And then we should be able to make contact.”
They started to walk, picking their way through the trees. Emily felt cold, despite the warm air. The refugees were dead or scattered and... there was nothing she could do about it. The rebels had attacked them, then they’d been caught in the middle when Void’s forces arrived to snatch her. Perhaps it would have been better to let the rebels march them away, then slip away when they had a chance. And yet... she grimaced. It could have turned very nasty.
Aiden slipped up beside her. “Do you think Dater will actually listen to you? To us?”
“I don’t know,” Emily said. Dater had been very reasonable, if big-headed, when they’d fought the necromancers together. He’d been a great deal less reasonable when she’d been trying to convince him to come to terms with the rebels. And he’d had the nerve to accuse her of sleeping with Aiden... her lips twisted in cold amusement. She should have seen that coming. Very few people knew Aiden was a woman. “Do you think you can convince your father to talk to you?”
Aiden made a face. “You do realize my father knows nothing about my double life?”
Emily had her doubts. Councilor Triune hadn’t struck her as a complete idiot. It was possible he hadn’t paid any real attention to his daughter, beyond assessing her marriage prospects as he worked his way up the social ladder, but... he couldn’t have risen so high if he hadn’t been observant enough to pick up the little details and cunning enough to take advantage of them. And he’d be loyal to the king. She remembered Viscount Nightingale and shivered. He’d been willing to do anything for his master.
And then he ran or hid when the civil war broke out, she reflected. No one knew what had happened to the wretched man, although the general feeling was that King Randor had killed him in a fit of rage. If Aiden’s father is the same...
She knew it was chancy. Councilor Triune would be astonished if his daughter arrived out of nowhere, with Emily - the - Emily - right behind her. God alone knew what conclusions he’d draw, with the royal army on the run and his master losing what little grip he’d had on the country. Did he know the truth? Did he guess it? Did he fear what his master would say if the truth came out? A daughter who betrayed her father was bad enough, but a daughter who became a rebel... a rebel councilor. She wondered, idly, if Dater would insist on a show trial or simply behead the poor bastard and dump his body somewhere along the road. It would be hard to decide.
We’ll find out soon, she told herself. Right now, there are few other choices open to us.
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